Mama of 3 kids who poop, prolifically and creatively. Wife of Superman. Child of God. Writer of funny things, mostly so as not to cry about them. Like poop.
Me to 3yo: Do you want eggs?
3yo: No.
Me: You sure?
3yo: I DON'T WANT ANY!
Me: Ok.
*Makes eggs and sits down*
3yo: I want some.
Me: I JUST asked you if you wanted any and you said no.
3yo: I want some!
*Makes 3yo eggs*
3yo: I dont want this.
This. This is why moms are crazy.
Me trying to ask someone for a favor: Hey could you help me with this thing? Absolutely no pressure though. Totally ok if you can’t. If you’d rather run me over with a car that’s cool. Are you mad at me?
Not sure I spelled this word correctly, or if I have spelled it wrong so many times that autocorrect has accepted it as a deep character flaw and given up on trying to change me.
It's a good thing that, as a former library employee, I've taught my kids proper respect for books, like DRAWING IN THEM AND THROWING THEM OUT THE WINDOW.
Even with three small children, my life still has balance. For example, I enjoyed a hot shower without interruptions this morning, and then came out to find a naked, poopy toddler.
Balance.
My spice cupboard is half organized alphabetically, half by flavor. Also some by size and shape. Get with the program and put the spices back where they belong, would ya?